


Denouement

by theonehewaitsfor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Love, Detention Camp, F/M, Hatred, Hurt, Love, Post War, Slavery, Voldemort Reigns, non-canon, slave - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonehewaitsfor/pseuds/theonehewaitsfor
Summary: The war has ended, but it did not end well. Darkness has fallen over the world as Lord Voldemort reigns. Hermione Granger, while on the run, is captured and taken to the nearest detention camp.  She is found and placed as a servant in Severus Snape's household.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 31
Kudos: 92





	1. One

Her feet drag beneath her, weighing her down into the damp earth. She’s exhausted, but she knows she has to keep going. The forest would come to an end soon, the world erupting into a large field, open and exposed. Hermione Granger knew the Forest of Dean well... But not well enough to know it’s hiding places. 

It had been months that she had been hiding. In fact, it had almost been a year. A year since the war had ended in sadness and heartbreak. It was true--Harry Potter was dead and gone. So was Ronald. And most of her friends. As far as she knew, everyone from before was dead. However, she couldn’t dwell on the past. She had very little time left before she was captured. But she had a plan--fight. Fight them hard. 

She raced through the flora, dodging outreaching branches and hopping over the large roots of old trees. Sunset had fallen upon the forest, the last light of the day that the girl was chasing. Stopping for a quick break, she summoned water into a stainless steel bottle, her wand swirling around the metal. As she drank, she crouched to the ground, staying as low and as hidden as possible. It wouldn’t be long before they found her; this she knew. 

Standing once again, she wiped off her sweating palms and gripped her wand tighter. Suddenly, a voice stopped her. 

“Don’t move.” 

Holding up her hands, she instantly felt the pit in her stomach. Then, she felt a fist dive into it. Hunched over, she nearly lost her last meal. 

“Please,” she whispered, turning about to face them. She came face to face with someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. Her stomach turned over, an icy chill tracing down her spine. Antonin Dolohov. He gave her a wide smile and extended his wand towards her. 

“Expelliarmus!” She cried, a vibrant blue light shooting out from the tip of her wand. Dolohov flew backwards, his wand cascading upwards. Hermione took off, running faster than she had in her entire life. Her foot caught the spindly root of a tree and she came crashing down to the ground. Then, she was dragged. He had grabbed a hold of her ankles and pulled her along the rough, muddy surface. 

“Dolohov!” She screamed, thrashing about. “Let me go!” 

“Silence!” He shouted, flipping her onto her back. His wand was pointed at her, directly at the center of her forehead. 

That was the last thing she remembered.


	2. Two

Had it all been a horrible dream? 

It was possible, she thought. 

When she came to, she was resting in one of the softest beds that she had felt in a long time. Hermione opened her eyes and soon realized she could only see out of one of them. As she reached up to gingerly press her fingers against her right eye, it was suddenly clear that it was swollen and bruised. 

Clearly, it had not been a dream. 

She looked around the small room in which she had been placed into. It couldn’t have been larger than her bathroom with her parent’s. Nothing more than a toilet, bed and door. She pulled the scratchy blanket off of herself to reveal more bruises and scratches on her spindly legs. Standing, she made her way slowly to the door. There was a small window, just enough to let a little light in, a slender bar dancing across the room as the sun drifted by. 

“Hello?” She called out. “Is someone there?” 

Hermione waited a few moments and then turned to sit on the bed once more. She was dressed in a simple nightgown, linen and flimsy. She wore a pair of white panties beneath it; no bra. Just as Hermione was prepared to lie back on the bed, a pair of eyes appeared in the narrow window of the door. She jumped and immediately reached around to cover herself with the blanket on the bed. 

The door unlocked, a dark figure shadowed by the lack of light in the room. “Lumos,” the person uttered. 

Hermione shivered, the face revealed to her. 

“Miss Granger, how wonderful to see you again. Except, I must admit, you are not in as good a shape as I remember you last.” 

“You as well, Malfoy.” Proudly, Hermione gripped her blanket tighter and lifted her chin. 

“Come with me.” He extended a hand for her, but she held her arms across her chest, the blanket still in her grasp. 

He led her out of the room and into a wide hall of grey stone. Cell doors, which appeared to be just like hers, decorated the walls. Her bare feet slapped against the cool floor, and she glanced down at them. She was coated in dirt, even beneath her toenails. How long had she been in that cell? It had felt like months, but it had to have only been days. They came to a stop before an elaborately decorated gate. 

“How--how long was I in there?” she asked softly. 

Malfoy stopped to wave his wand in an intricate pattern over the gate in front of them. As soon as they stepped into the next room, he turned to her. “A little over two days.” 

Two days? That was it? She let out a soft, defeated breath. Malfoy, whom Hermione hadn’t seen since the end of the war, looked much better than the last time she had seen him. His hair was freshly combed and pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore a finely embroidered overcoat upon a crisp white dress shirt. A pair of tight-fitting black pants suited him, tucked into a pair of knee-high leather boots. They crinkled as the pair walked. 

Soon, Hermione stood in a small room with a bench and a small wardrobe. Malfoy directed her to sit as he stood before her. “Through that door,” he gestured. “You will find a shower with soap. You are to clean yourself impeccably. I want no spots of dirt upon you. As well, there are other toiletries I expect you to use to make yourself presentable. Once you are finished, in the wardrobe is a dress. Put it on. There are also socks and shoes. Put them on as well. Your hair, fasten it up and out of your face.” 

“And if I refuse?” She rebutted, surprised at her own voice. 

“I’ll kill you.” He shrugged his eyebrows, a slight grin slipping onto his face. “Now, do it.” 

Hermione weighed her options for a brief moment, and then decided to obey him. 

As soon as she was dressed, Hermione knocked on the door as Malfoy instructed before he left. She stepped back and folded her hands at her waist. The dress fit her perfectly. It had been a long time since she had worn a dress, and a dress that was form-fitting at that. The sleeves came down just past her elbows. The neckline was round and gave her plenty of room for her long neck to move about. The body of her dress was tight fitting at her chest, but hung loosely beneath. It was as black as the night sky and soft cotton. It was, Hermione believed, one of the more comfortable articles of clothing she’d had in a long time. On her feet were a pair of black utility boots that stopped at her ankle. Thick wool socks kept her toes warm beneath the leather. 

Her stomach churned at the thought of what would come next--she was dressed in black with her hair up. Would she be executed? But why go through all the trouble of bathing her? Shaking her head, she wiped the sweat from her palms on the front of her dress.

The door opened suddenly and Malfoy appeared before her. He raised a single eyebrow and began to circle her. His cane was tightly in the grip of his right hand. “Good. Very good. Now, come.” 

He gripped her arm just above the elbow and shoved her forward, his hot breath racing over her bare neck. She stumbled forward, traveling through the door and out into the grey hallway once again. They took a sharp right and the hallway narrowed significantly. At the end, a windowless door stood ominously. It opened as soon as Malfoy came near. 

She was blinded by the harsh sunlight, casting down from the middle of the sky. It was noon, or close to it. The air was warmer than she remembered, a long-lost love. It embraced her lovingly, and she relished in it for a few seconds before she was shoved forwards. She stumbled, 

“Stop!” She shouted, shaking his strong hand from her arm. Standing straight, she looked right at Malfoy as he swung his cane across her face. Letting out a sharp cry, her hand flew up to her face and felt the blood stream from her broken lip. With a hurt expression upon her face, she straightened and glared at him. 

“How dare you speak to me that way!” 

“I just--I just wanted you not to grab me so roughly.” She whimpered.

“Malfoy!” A thick molasses voice stopped Lucius Malfoy just as he raised his cane once again. Hermione’s head darted in the direction of the voice and her mouth fell agape. It couldn’t be. 

Severus Snape came into the small courtyard between buildings, a stern expression upon his face. “What has this woman do-” 

Hermione swallowed heavily just as his eyes fell upon her. Even with her black eye and bloodied lip, Snape knew exactly who she was.


	3. Three

He hadn’t seen her in a year--not since the war had ended. And even then, he wasn’t focused on her. But when he saw her standing before him, even though her face was bloodied, his heart swelled. The feeling had been familiar at one time, seeing her sit down at her desk in his class. This time, however, his heart sank as soon as it began to soar. It wasn’t possible. He began to doubt himself. Hermione Granger was long dead.

“Is it really you?” Severus Snape stepped forward towards the girl. Pinching her chin, he lifted her face towards him and inspected her closely. Something was missing. Snape reached up behind her head and removed the tie that held her hair up. It tumbled down in thick, auburn curls. It was. It was Hermione Granger--he was sure of it.

“Professor?” She asked the man. She was shocked--what was he doing there, standing before her?

“It’s Lord Snape, now,” Malfoy corrected her at once.

“Stop talking.” Snape ordered, his head snapping over towards Malfoy.

“My Lord,” Malfoy bowed his head in submission and embarrassment.

Hermione fell silent, uncomfortable between the two men. “Take her up the hill and have the house elf get her settled. She’ll serve me.”

“But, my Lord,” Malfoy started. “She’s a mudblood. She shouldn’t serve you.”

“I decide who serves me.” Snape uttered, narrowing his eyes at the man. “Now, take her to the house. I have business to finish here.”

Malfoy nodded his head and immediately grabbed the girl above her arm once again. He shoved her forwards as soon as Snape made his way into the next building.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

But she didn’t feel lucky at all.

* * *

The home sat upon a hill just outside of the prison walls. The fence was a tall border, fitted with barbed wire around the top. As soon as they exited the prison camp, Hermione’s boots crunched in a large pile of snow. The path to the house was cleared with a snow shovel. There was a hedge row along the brick steps, and Hermione could hear the sound of the sea nearby as they made their way to the top of the hill. The house came into full view as they pressed through a tall iron gate. Malfoy let go of the girl’s arm as soon as the pair entered the lot. Her lip bled still, dripping onto her dark dress.

The front of the house was grand, a circle drive preserved with cobblestone. French doors invited her into the home, and she was immediately ordered to remove her boots. She obeyed and nervously moved out of the way for Master Malfoy to hand the cane over to the house elf that appeared.

“Kleenie, this is Hermione. She is to serve Lord Snape. She will be working at your side, so treat her no different than the others that have come before her. The girl is nothing special, despite what Lord Snape may believe.”

Hermione fought back the urge to narrow her eyes and snarl at Malfoy as he stood adjacent to her. A free hand found its way down her back, resting just above the rounded area of her bottom. She froze, realizing that Malfoy was touching her. A shiver traveled down her spine and Hermione began to shake.

“Kleenie, give us a moment.”

“As you wish, sir.” Kleenie disapparated at once, leaving Hermione alone with the wizard.

The silver-haired wizard gripped the girl’s hip and spun her around, his other hand flying up to her chin. Blood oozed over his hand from her busted lip, but he ignored the stain. “Just as I said to her, I will say to you. You are nothing. You are a mudblood with a famous reputation. Just because Snape sees something in you does not mean that you are worthy of anything. Keep your head down and your mouth shut. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And at that, Malfoy pushed her backwards. Hermione stumbled over her dress and fell to the floor, turning over to watch him leave.

* * *

Hermione sat upon the bed in the middle of her small chambers. In the corner there was a porcelain basin with a pitcher of water at the side resting upon a dresser. A fireplace, adequately sized for the space, was perched in the corner. It crackled and gave off enough warmth so that the girl wasn’t shivered. She held her knees up to her chest, her eyes focused out the tiny circle window above her bed.

Kleenie suddenly appeared in the room after a sharp knock upon the door and immediately began rattling off.

“You will have dinner before you return to your chambers. You will wake every morning at six to bathe yourself and serve the master his breakfast. He prefers it in his own private chambers. The rest of the day, you are at the service of the master. Only speak when spoken to.  
Bow before you leave. And one other thing--” Kleenie paused. “ _Never_ disobey him.” The house elf was terse as she addressed Hermione. She felt a chill travel down her spine at the thought of what punishment might find her if she didn’t follow the rules.

The next morning, she washed her face in the frigid water upon the dresser, pulling her hair back from her face. Hermione slipped into the black dress, wishing she had more layers. As she journeyed down the dangerously steep stairs and into the kitchen, she prayed that nothing would go wrong that day.

With his breakfast tray in her hands, she made her way up the main staircase, taking a sharp right. She stopped before the doors and her knuckles rapped twice against the aging wood.

“Come in,” he uttered, his voice muffled through the double doors. Hermione carefully balanced the tray on her forearm as she opened the door and stepped inside.

The morning light, although it was grey and overcast, cascaded into the room and bathed everything brightly. Hermione’s eyes scanned the room in search of Lord Snape and found him sitting at a desk in the corner, opposite a large four-poster bed. The wood on the posts were intricately carved, and dark purple velvet curtains were drawn across to conceal the actual mattress itself.

The desk at which the man sat was moderately sized, with its legs matching the carvings upon the bed. It was the kind of desk in which Hermione would have envisioned for the man. Along the wall behind him were long windows, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. The curtains, matching the bed, were drawn back to reveal the seaside behind the lot.

Hermione made her way across the room, careful not to let the tray waiver in her grip. As she sat it down on the corner of the desk, she bowed heavily and began to recede.

“Who told you to bow before me?”

“Kleenie, sir.”

“Never bow. Only to Lord Voldemort.”

She shivered at the mention of his name and a painful memory sliced through her icily. Her stomach turned at the reminder that Voldemort had killed her dearest friend.

“Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

“Now out of my sight. See what you can tend to with Malfoy. You have training to do.”

“Training?”

“You didn’t believe your skill set was adequate to serve me, did you?” A small chortle left his lips and he rolled his eyes.

Hermione’s heart fell, knowing she would leave the safer cocoon of Lord Snape’s service to be in the presence of Lucius. Especially after the interaction they had the previous night. But, she had no choice. It was literally life or death.


	4. Four

Hermione trekked down the stairs after her encounter with Severus Snape, defeated. She would be spending the day with Lucius Malfoy, apparently in ‘training.’ What sort of activities would it entail? Her stomach churned once again. It had done a lot of that as of late, but she ignored it. Keeping her head down, she found Kleenie in the dining room, dusting the mantle.

“Kleenie, where can I find Master Malfoy? Lord Snape says I’m to find him for training.”

“Back at the prison camp, there’s a large building just to the left of the main building. As one of the guards to let you in. Malfoy should be there.”

“Thank you, Kleenie.”

“Don’t. I don’t serve you. I just feel sorry for you.”

Hermione left the house at once, bounding down the steps towards the complex. A light mist had filled the air, a dampness that clung to her exposed skin. Once she reached the gate, Hermione stopped before a guard.

“I’m here to see Master Malfoy.”

The guard stepped aside from the gate, waving his hand over it. The gate opened at once, a sharp cry as the metal creaked together. “The large hall to your right.”

As she made her way across the open lot, she approached the familiar looking building. It had been the one she had headed to the previous day. What awaited her in the hall? Would more punishment be her daily training? The witch entered the building, and with the invitation of voices, followed the path down a narrow hallway. She passed closed doors, but the door at the end was open. Hardwood floors reflected the fluorescent lights from the ceiling, Hermione noticed as she stepped inside cautiously.  
At the front of the room, Lucius Malfoy stood with his cane in his hands, parallel to the floor. His brow furrowed as soon as she entered and then lifted when he recognized her. Two young women flipped their heads around and Hermione gasped.

Racing forward, she immediately threw her arms around the girls. Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley were also over the moon at seeing one of their closest friends.

“Get away!” Malfoy shouted, interrupting the joyous reunion between the girls.

Cho immediately stepped back and tucked her chin to her chest. Ginny followed suit. Hermione stared in disbelief, her head flipping around to glare at Malfoy. In return, she received a firm whack of the cane to the backs of her legs. She tumbled to the floor, the pain burning on her thighs.

“Please!” She cried. Cho shook her head, her eyes wide. _Don’t fight_ , she mouthed.

“Please, what?” Malfoy responded, a corner of his lip curved upwards.

Hermione groaned as she came to her feet, rubbing her left leg. “Please, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you, sir.”

She fell in line with the others, her chin tucked and her hands folded together at her waist. The girl felt outrageously overdressed in comparison to her friends. Cho was dressed in a corseted bodysuit, the sleeves tight and long. The dark purple fabric brought out the warmth of her brown eyes. Black tights covered her pale, short legs and a pair of basic black pumps decorated her feet.

Ginny was dressed similarly, but instead she wore a navy corset bodysuit. A garter belt and matching stockings were on her feet with a pair of heels that matched Cho’s. Both girls wore robes over their outfits, tied at the hips.

Lucius had stepped away to sit down in a chair against the wall opposite the girls. He rested his cane on the chair next to him and folded his hands to rest his chin upon them.

“The first rule of serving a high ranking official is… what? You Weasley.” He pointed at Ginny, a pale, elegant finger.

Ginny’s head snapped up and she answered at once. “Obedience in all things.”

“Correct. Chang, what will you do when your master asks you to do something?”

“Do what he asks, sir.”

“Correct. And you, _mudblood_ … What will you do when Lord Snape tells you to come to bed with him?”

No. It was impossible.

She was going to be his whore.

* * *

“Don’t you see, we’re being trained to be their whores?” Ginny questioned, staring at Hermione with a pained expression upon her face. She pulled the robe tighter across her waist. Hermione felt the anxiety rise inside her, like vomit.

 _Whores? Her friends?_ No. She wouldn’t allow it. The woman already had it in her head that she would do her best to protect the other girls. She had to.

They were given a brief break to get water and eat a small piece of cheese and bread. Malfoy had stepped into his office, two guards standing in his place. They stood with their wands attached to their belts in a small leather holster.

“Snape can’t be horrible. He probably can’t even get it up. I’m worried I’ll be Crabtree’s or Parot’s.” Cho replied.

Hermione shook her head in confusion. “So you’re saying they’ve been training witches to become prostitutes?”

“Yes. And we’re next. Cho and I’ll be out in just a couple weeks. Then there will be new recruits.”

“How did I get lucky enough to be with you?”

“Oh, there’s loads like us. We just were with Pansy Parkinson and the Patil twins. We were captured after the end of the war. We were hiding together, and they found us. At first, we were in the camps… That was the worst. Of course you know. This won’t be so bad.”

“The camps?” Hermione sought clarification.

“Wait--you weren’t in a camp? How did they pick you?” Cho interrupted, leaning forward. One of the guards shifted and placed his hand on his wand.

“Quiet.” He ordered. The girls lowered their voices, straightening their backs.

“I was in the prison for a short time. And I think Malfoy was taking me to a camp… But then Snape saw me… He just told Malfoy to take me up to the house.”

Ginny shook her head, crossing her arms in disbelief. “You’re lucky. Look at what they did to us in the camp…”

Immediately, both girls turned and let their robes fall. Their backs, exposed above the corset, were painfully scarred. Evidence of horrible spells and curses were splayed across their once beautiful skin. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth.

“I said, quiet!” The guard raised his voice.

“I won’t let it happen. Maybe I can talk to Snape. He has to listen to me.”

“Are you daft?” Ginny questioned, her whisper sharp and pointed. “He’s not the Snape we knew. He’s Voldemort’s right hand now. Nothing is the same. You just have to do what they say and no harm will come to you. If Cho and I hadn’t reacted, we wouldn’t have been cursed.”

“I refuse to give up, just like that.”

“But you’ll change,” Cho added.


	5. Five

That night, Hermione ventured back to the house upon the hill, angered after her day of training with Malfoy.

 _It isn’t possible_ , she thought to herself. _Snape didn’t choose me, knowing that I would become his… In all ways. Snape is a good m--no. No. He’s not any longer. Perhaps I don’t know him anymore. As if I ever knew him well in the first place. I only know what Harry told me. And that wasn’t much._

Dusk had fallen over the land, pinks and oranges from the setting sun dusted everything in sight. The lights in the house glowed ambiently, warm and inviting. But Hermione didn’t want to go in. Everything in her life was out of her control, suddenly at the will of two men.

“Good evening,” she was greeted by Snape in passing. He was descending the stairs, dressed elegantly, yet undone. His hair was pulled into a ponytail, a black ribbon tying it back from his face. A white dress shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal salt and pepper chest hair; his dress pants were tucked into a pair of knee-high black leather boots that creaked when he walked.

“Good evening,” Hermione muttered. She bowed her head and waited for him to land on the hardwood floor.

“I trust your training was informative?”

“In all ways, sir.” She replied, ascending up the stairs.

“When did Malfoy expect you to be ready?”

Her stomach plummeted to the core of her abdomen. She turned, holding onto the banister of the stairs to face him. Did he know?

“He didn’t say.”

“The others have been taking around one month. We try to get them trained and out to their assignments as soon as possible.” His voice was low and humming. He continued, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. “The goal is total satisfaction from the receiving party. The girls are trained to be obedient in all things. I hope you… _understand._ ”

“I understand… _Completely_.” She replied, narrowing her eyes.

Snape withdrew a single hand from his pocket and inspected the cuticles on the nails. “I’m ready for supper. Go get cleaned up and join me.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind, I’m quite tired… I’d like to lie down.” Hermione requested, continuing her ascent. She now stood at the top of the landing, peering down upon Lord Snape. He brought his head up so that their eyes met, and then he began to cross the entryway and climb the stairs.

“Did you not hear me correctly? I _told_ you to join me for dinner.” His voice was gruff, angry and short. Hermione cowered, stepping backwards on the landing. He finally stepped in front of her and grabbed her roughly by the wrist. “I didn’t stutter. Now, let’s go!” He roared.

Dragging her across the landing, he pulled her up the second set of stairs towards the attic in which her room was placed. Down the long hall, he opened her bedroom door and flung her across the floor. Falling onto her side, the girl collided with the hardwood and began to slide.

“I’m sorry!” She cried. “I thought you would be more understanding.”

“Clearly, you were wrong.”

* * *

With tired eyes and slow hands, Hermione lifted the spoon to her mouth. She blew the steam away and took a bite of the beef stew. It was warm and delicious, filling her belly. She hadn’t been fed since the early afternoon, when they were given bread and cheese during their training.

That night, the two of them didn’t utter a word during their meal. Hermione was sent to bed with a full belly and no conversation.

 _What was the point of dinner if there was nothing said?_ She thought to herself as she laid in bed. Her nightdress was barely enough to keep her warm, with its thin linen and lack of sleeves. Pulling the scratchy wool blanket up under her chin, she shivered and closed her eyes. She thought of the times she sat before the fire in the common room of the Gryffindor chambers at Hogwarts. But it was dangerous to do such a thing--dreaming like that would suck her in and eventually, it’d never let her go.

The next morning, Hermione made her way into the open room of the large hall, where Cho and Ginny stood. Immediately, she asked them the question that had been on her mind.

“Why are you wearing that? Snape doesn’t have me wear anything like that.”

“It’s per the discretion of our masters. Most want us dressed like this when we’re serving them. Others want you dressed like that until it’s time to take you to bed.” Ginny replied nonchalantly. Her eyes were cast downward, focused on a spot on the floor.

Cho ran her fingers through her long raven hair, turning to face Hermione. “You’re lucky. I know I’ve already said that, but Malfoy told me I’m Parot’s servant-- And I’m not ready for that. I’ve heard he’s quite violent.” Her voice was typical of her, soft yet scared. It would have been a beautiful voice to sing lullabies to her children.

Hermione sighed, climbing to her feet. “But what about their wives? Don’t they care?”

“There are no wives here, unless one truly wants them. But what man truly wants his wife?”

“We’re just breeding stock, you know.” Ginny added to Cho’s statement.

Hermione stopped fiddling with the skirt of her dress and looked up. “Wait. They want to impregnate us?”

“If we’re of good lineage and are purebloods… Yes. You’re safe. Because you’re muggle born, no wizard will want to pass on his line with you.”

“I can’t… I can’t believe this! Why didn’t you tell me yesterday!? We’re not just whores, we’re their incubators. Haven’t you done anything?” Hermione cried, her voice sharp as the point on a pin.

Ginny immediately threw her hand over Hermione’s mouth, seeing one of the guards peek their head into the room. Malfoy had yet to come in that morning.

“Keep your voice down! You’ll get us all killed.” Ginny ordered, withdrawing her hand and taking a step back. “Hermione, you’re smarter than all of us. If you can think of a way to stop this, then you can beat them. But we’ve tried everything.”

“We almost escaped… Faked dead and they almost got our bodies out and thrown into the sea… But then they caught on. We paid for that. No food or water for five days. Total isolation.” Cho piped in.

“You see, there’s nothing we can do. Besides, how horrible could it truly be? We’ve accepted our fate. Now it’s time for you to do the same.” Ginny replied, nodding her head and sitting down on the floor. She began to stretch, rolling her neck back and forth. It was hard work, being on their feet all day.

Hermione let out a heavy sigh and her shoulders fell. She was beyond defeated. She had altogether given up. Especially after the night before, her near run-in with Snape. If she hadn’t kept her mouth shut during dinner, she would be dead.


End file.
